


Car Crash Hearts (Little Red Corvette)

by oh_ms_omegalomaniac



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SO, Tumblr, anyway, basically pete hits patrick with his car, blood warning tw, drunk patrick ay!!!, i kinda changed it to ambulance, instead of drove in car, ive never been drunk, never really talked to a drunk person, oops sorry, prompt, this should be interesting, um, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_ms_omegalomaniac/pseuds/oh_ms_omegalomaniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I accidentally hit you with my car and now I have to drive you to the hospital and it's super awkward but you're also really cute and I kind of want to ask you out" Peterick AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Car Crash Hearts (Little Red Corvette)

**Author's Note:**

> For http://actualpatrickstumph.tumblr.com/  
> Send me prompts!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is only based on existing real people- it is a work of fiction and is about characters who resemble real people. Please don't harass any real people or friends/relatives of real people about shipping.

He's a happy drunk, Patrick is. Giggly and sociable and brave in all the ways he's not when he's sober. Joe can tell you enough about Patrick's sober social skills- he's hopeless. It'd be hilarious if it wasn't so sad. 

"Vegan Guy was totally hitting on you, Joe Troh! You two should totally hook u-" 

The blond man hiccups and bursts into laughter, cheeks red and words more than a little slurred. The 'Joe Troh' in question rolls his eyes and begins to push his friend out the door, somewhat embarrassed by how quickly and regularly Patrick gets shitfaced drunk. 

(Like Joe can talk about getting shitfaced. The only difference between him and Patrick is that Joe somehow regains some sense of dignity even when completely wasted.) 

"No use both of us dying alone, Joe!"

"We're not going to die alone, 'Trick. We'll die together. In the same shitty apartment. Spending our nights getting wasted." 

Despite the fact that he's literally drunk like three beers (okay, maybe four. Five. Six?) Patrick laughs a little too hard at Joe's statement. Fucking lightweight, Patrick is. Joe sighs to himself as he continues to manhandle his friend outside. 

Every Wednesday, Friday and Sunday night is the same- Patrick stumbles on stage to play his regular half hour performance at Hot Tattooed Vegan Guy's hipster coffee shop, stammers out a few words to introduce himself, plays fucking amazingly and then stumbles off stage, red faced and flustered. And then he drinks until he's no longer terrified of belting out incredible covers of whatever the audience requests and his brilliant original songs. 

The alcohol definitely helps with Patrick's confidence to belt out songs, that's for sure. 

Belting out songs at inappropriate times. Like now. 

"Little red Corvette, baby you're going much too fast! Little red Corvette, you need a love that's gonna last!" 

"Sh, man, stop it with the Prince, we're in a freaking residential area. Vegan Guy is gonna kill us if he gets in trouble over noise limits again! Remember last time?!" 

"Little red- oh, sorry, duh," Patrick draws out the 'uh' sound in the word and giggles quietly to himself. 

"If he killed you, you two would never hook up!" 

Rolling his eyes as his friend bursts into hysterical laughter over his own joke (Joe's wasted as fuck but not wasted enough to find that funny, come on), Joe sighs and rummages in his pocket to find their apartment keys. Lucky Patrick isn't too shitfaced to walk- Joe is not dragging him back to their apartment tonight. 

Nope. 

Joe is going to get high and try to find out Hot Tattooed Vegan Guy's name, thank you very much. Handing the blond his keys, Joe gives him a gentle push in the vague direction of their apartment and retreats back into the coffee shop. 

/\/\/\

Pete is not having the best of nights. First he has to deal with the newest band signed to his label throwing a massive tantrum over a stupid riff in one of their songs (why get the head of DCD2, your boss, into the studio asking for his opinion when you're just going to ignore him?!) and then he has to put up with Brendon Fucking Urie throw a fucking hissy fit over some ridiculous shit (Brendon's one of Pete's closest friends and a great guy but he does not know when to back down). Add that to the fact that Bronx had to go to Ashlee's a day early because Pete had to work stupid overtime because Cobra Starship decided they want to finish their newest album before the end of the month and you have a very unhappy Pete Wentz. 

A very unhappy Pete Wentz not paying very much attention as he drives home- not paying much attention until he collides with something. 

Something. 

Someone?!

Startled, Pete curses loudly and pulls over, slamming the car door in his haste to get to whatever the fuck he just hit. It's suburban Chicago, so it can't have been a deer or some crap like that. Do they even have deer in Chicago? Pete contemplates that thought for a moment before a groan of pain drags him away from thoughts of native wildlife and back to the situation. Shit. In the light of the headlights Pete can see a crumpled silhouette of what is clearly a person slumped on the pavement.

"Woah, fuck, are you okay? Hello? Are you alive?!" 

He's seriously freaking out now, what the fuck, he wasn't going that fast, he couldn't have killed someone, could he? Thankfully the person moans again, confirming that they're at least alive, and Pete crouches down next to who looks like a pretty damn hurt guy. Wearing a fedora. 

Pete's brain registers hot hot hot before the guilt hits and he's stammering apologies. 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, what the fuck, are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?! Shit, I'll call an ambulance, you hold on, kay? Hold on."

Before the panicked man can dial 911, he's surprised by the drunken giggle the hurt guy produces. 

"Okay, good you're definitely alive." 

"Alive? I'm alive... I think... it'd kinda suck if I wasn't alive, yeah?"

The hurt guy's words are slurred but Pete reckons that's more from the alcohol he can smell on his breath than the accident.

"Good, you're alive. I'm gonna call an ambulance, so hold on." 

After a very awkward conversation with an unimpressed sounding phone operator ("You hit someone with your car. Right. Well done. Are they breathing? Good. I'll send someone out. Make sure he keeps breathing.") Pete stares down at the guy he's hit, guilt churning in his stomach. Shit, shit, shit. 

"Whas' your name?" 

The guy's words are still very slurred but somehow... melodic. He's got a beautiful voice, Pete thinks distractedly. 

"Um, I'm Pete. Pete Wentz."

"Pete. Pete Wentz. Do I know you? You're very pretty, Pete Wentz, anyone ever tell you that?" 

Fedora guy's slurred compliment has that sort of sincerity you only hear when the speaker is really, really wasted. It's kind of adorable. (It'd be even more adorable if the guy wasn't fucking BLEEDING in like FOUR DIFFERENT PLACES but hey, Pete will take what he can get.) 

"You wouldn't believe how many people have told me that. What's your name?" 

"I'm Patrick. It's very nice to meet you. Did you hit me with your car?" 

Pete winces. 

"Uh, yeah. Sorry about that."

The drunk guy- Patrick- beams for some reason Pete can't really comprehend. At least he doesn't seem to be in too much pain.

"Tha's okay." 

They're quiet for a little while now, as Pete fidgets awkwardly and tries to look anywhere but at the guy he's just hit with his car, when the ambulance shows up. It's then a blur of sirens and paramedics and questions and hospital wards and cold plastic chairs after that and the last thing Pete thinks (somewhat illogically) about before falling asleep is whether Patrick would possibly want to get a coffee or something with him. One day. When he's not in hospital, that is. 

/\/\/\

Patrick has had some pretty bad hangover headaches in the past but this one takes the cake. Holy. Smokes. He blinks his eyes open slowly, wincing at the bright light of the sun shining through the windows of the hospital ward. 

Hospital ward?! 

"Oh, fuck."

Just speaking hurts like hell and all Patrick wants to do is bury his head under the covers and hide until he feels better but the relieved voice of some guy provokes his curiosity enough to force his eyes open fully. 

"You're awake!" 

Woah. 

Random guy is hot. 

Patrick's never been very good with priorities, to be honest- for some reason he's in a hospital, everything hurts, he's really fucking hangover- but damn. 

Hot. 

"I'm awake. Where am I, exactly? Who are you?" 

The words come out harsher than Patrick intended and he winces as the guy's expression turns unhappy. Stupid clumsy tongue. Patrick berates himself silently as the hot guy sighs. 

"Uh, I may have hit you with my car. I'm Pete. You called me pretty?" 

Great. Smooth drunk Patrick has struck again, complimenting random attractive probably-straight strangers. 

"Oh, god. I'm sorry. I was really, really drunk." 

Pete's face falls but he pouts dramatically, covering up the disappointment Patrick can see in his eyes with a playful question, "So you don't think I'm pretty?" 

I think you're very pretty, Patrick's brain thinks. "I think you're very pretty," Patrick's mouth says.

Patrick frowns at himself. Not okay. Don't voice thoughts like that, mouth. 

"Aw, thank you!" 

Pete looks genuinely happy at the compliment and Patrick glows for a minute, blushing a little as the very attractive stranger beams at him. Then a searing pain shooting down his side interrupts the happiness and he has to fight back a yelp of pain. 

"Oh, yeah. Two of your ribs are broken. Sorry?" 

/\/\/\

It takes four days of maintaining that yes, he's fine, and no, he won't get hit by a car again, for Patrick to be released from the hospital. Joe's visited him on seven different occasions during those four days, his parents have spent hours by his bedside (which is totally overdramatic of them, what even, he's fine) but most importantly, Pete has literally left his room for three hours, to race back home to change his clothes. 

After Pete got over his ridiculous guilt over hitting Patrick (he's fine, for fuck's sake), the two of them just.. clicked. It's such a cliché, yeah, but literally talked the entire time he was stuck in the stupid hospital bed. 

So Patrick's not exactly surprised when Pete shyly slips him his number and kisses him gently on the cheek after dropping him back at the apartment.

**Author's Note:**

> EPIC FORESHADOWING WITH PATRICK SINGING LITTLE RED CORVETTE no I'm sorry it's the only Prince song I know oops


End file.
